4 out of 5

Label: Def Jam

Produced by: Chuck D, Eric “Vietnam” Sadler, Hank Shocklee, Keith Shocklee

Man, I hate Flava Flav.  Why did we ever tolerate that guy?  Because it was a packaged deal?  He works as a straight hype man, but trusting the dude with songs produces, at best, tolerable toss-offs, but more in general dumbass nonsense like ‘Can’t Do Nuttin’ for Ya Man.’  And so this is one element any PE disc has to overcome: The Flav factor.  Fear of a Black Planet manages this mostly by assaulting you with some of the most instantly arresting hip-hop tracks ever written, Chuck D’s verbal flow delivered incensed, advancing past the Angry Black Man image that was being cultivated and into that of someone moved solely by inspiration, even if that inspiration comes from frustration.

I am lacking context when it comes to PE, being a pale-ass white jew from Missouri, and I also sat on my tinted shades that give a certain set of albums free passes for being historically important.  That is to say: I think there are a lot of problems with this album.  Flav aside, there are some dead spots on the disc, and despite the billions of samples apparently sifted through and stuffed into soundy corners, some songs end up hitting the same beats / general tone as others.  That “arresting” feeling thus only lasts about half the disc, the other half you’re still pumping your first but not with such fervor, maybe starting to question your behavior a little bit (“how many cars is it acceptable to set on fire on any given day?”).  I flirted with destroying the internet by rating Black Planet lower – three stars – but then I considered just how damn good the good tracks are, then went back and listened to some older PE stuff and realized that it’s more the album’s imbalance that causes lulls.  Even an average Enemy track from this era has some interesting stuff going on, lyrically and musically, and please consider all compliments I offer to be exclusive of Flav’s tracks.  So its more that about a half of Black Planet hits Enemy’s norm – a good beat (maybe with some extra layers this time around), Flav’s sputtered hypes, and Chuck D’s rolling rhymes, slipping in and out of vague comments and rhetoric, but still more intelligently constructed than most of his (any era) peers.  The remaining tracks are nigh untouchable, densely packed swirling songs of intensity, though that’s not to suggest they’re all outright angry – ‘Burn Hollywood Burn’ is a great example of a track that spits fire at a concept (the inherent racism in the entertainment industry, still something we struggle with, though we’re crawling our way to better places) while maintaining sort of a sly smile throughout.  And I suppose that is where I have some context, and what makes these PE discs all the more satisfying: My context is of a pale-ass white jew from Missouri.  When I went to pick up my Aerosmith cassette from my mall’s Sam Goody, I’d sweatily eyeball the hip-hop section, ignorantly fearful of what might be contained on some of those parental-advisory-stickered packs of plastic and tape.  I recognized Public Enemy as a name, as I did Cypress Hill and whatever else “cooler” teenagers happened to risk parent no-nos to listen to, but it was, admittedly, music I “learned” to stay away from.  I gave it a context without ever talking about it or listening to it, and that context was something alarming or frightening.  I would like to claim to not be racist, but that’s a clear bias I had – and I further can’t deny my associating hip-hop with the black race, though there’s cultural relevance to that association, I’d say – and perfect evidence of the kind of built-in prejudices that would give birth to Public Enemy and so much more.  So the surprise, to that younger version of myself, is to recognize how musically rich the band’s offerings are, even several decades after release.  It’s not “just” about one thing, even if Chuck Ds political / social views are undeniably the over-riding theme behind the group or this album album.

It starts how it starts, with the nervy buildup of ‘Contract on the World Love Jam’ leading in to one of the disc’s megabombs of music: ‘Brothers Gonna Work It Out.’  While The Bomb Squad’s beats tend to lean toward more party style funk in the disc’s latter half, on this track and the equally awesome ‘Welcome to the Terrordome,’ the layers of the thing are stacked incredibly high, looming overheard and teetering to collapse – in a good way, as in built to constantly keep you on edge and aware of all the details.  D’s lyrics just keep hitting, and even Flav’s additions feel like proper hype.

911 Is a Joke, a couple tracks prior, is fine, an acceptable yuk yuk between tracks.  Maybe the Beastie Boys side of people digs this more than I do.  Terrordome strikes the same tone – but in its own unique ways with, again, tons of layers – as Brothers, before ‘Pollywanacraka’ brilliantly mixes up the pace and D’s delivery for a laid-back jam about inter-race dating, and again shows the band’s awareness as the view turns inward to the black community and not just pointing a finger elsewhere.  (I’d be curious as to D’s take on this in modern culture.)

‘Anti-Nigger Machine’ is a short, potent blast about the power of language, the first track carried mostly by the MCs over the music (the beats are fine, just not as compelling as what’s preceded it), and then another classic with the aforementioned ‘Burn Hollywood Burn.’

This is where I start to fall out with the album.  ‘Power to the People,’ ‘Who Stole the Soul?,’ and  the title track all have their highlights (particularly Fear’s samples and voice manipulations), but they tend to ride the beat more than attack from all angles.  ‘Power’ comes closest to hitting the highs of the opening tracks, but the lyrics just don’t feel as potent.  Again – repeat listening reveals that these are all quality tracks, taken on their own terms.  Its comparative listening to highlights on the disc that muddles them a bit.

‘Revolutionary Generation’ brings things back, with another interesting inward-looking take on sexism.  This is another track that’s especially fascinating given the hot-button nature of that very issue currently, as well as just being a topic that’s rarely covered in hip-hop, and certainly within the more aggressive circles with which PE is associated.  However, it also falls prey to the catch-22 of gender issues, where treating females with respect starts to come dangerously close to treating them as “precious,” as opposed to just humans.  Its not outright in the song, and again, the very idea that the topic is broached within the genre (and intelligently so) is notable.

Then the worst slump on the disc, from the obnoxious Flav ‘Can’t Do Nuttin’…’ and tedious ‘Regie Jax’ through a few fairly aimless tracks, up until closer ‘Fight the Power’ whips its standard beat into shape for a strong conclusion.

So, sure, select songs on Fear aren’t near as impactful as others, but its also a lot of freakin’ music – 60+ minutes – and done without “sketches” or excessive guest stars or repeat single that clutter up any given hip-hop disc.  The quality of the production (just in terms of sound fidelity) might give away the era, but otherwise the density of these tracks counters any pro-tools twiddling done today (…is that still what we’re using?) and Ds spewed thoughts feel just as viral and relevant, for the most past, now as then.

Fear of a Black Planet is historically relevant for reasons better elucidated in other articles written by smarter people.  But its a damn good album without that context as well.